fools in love
by sweetharts
Summary: A Lucaya Hogwarts AU / Lucas and Maya are the Triwizard Tournament Champions from Beauxbatons and Hogwarts.


September was perhaps Farkle Minkus's favorite time of year. There was nothing comparable to the smell of fresh parchment and new textbooks. Nothing that quite hit Farkle with the same amount of anticipation and excitement than the annual reunions at Platform 9¾. September was new beginnings.

And every September Farkle would fall in love with Hogwarts all over again. Hogwarts had a way of doing that – making people fall in love. And he supposes that all castles have some sort of romantic air about them, with their secret corridors and spindly towers, but Hogwarts was a little bit more special than the rest. A castle was certainly the perfect backdrop for any love story, Farkle thought. He often thought about love stories, questioning their merit. Surely no two people could love each other enough to stop the Earth spinning – sparks flying and all the nonsense that people told him about. Love stories were just fiction after all, and he was a scientist.

It was almost eight, meaning that breakfast would soon commence in the Great Hall. Farkle had just arrived at his and Lucas's meeting place. On the sixth floor landing of the Grand Staircase, hung a small portrait of Jane Austen, a witch who whose novels were said to put all other love stories to shame. Farkle wouldn't know; of the hundreds of books he'd read, he hadn't quite had the time for an Austen novel. All he could say with certainty was that her portrait was unusually reclusive and the small lips upon her pink face of pastel oils never said much. She was rather unpleasant for a woman who dedicated her life to love. You could almost always find her writing though, flicking a quill quickly across painted parchment.

Most every morning Mrs. Austen would blink at Farkle before turning to Lucas and wishing him a good morning. Talking to Lucas was the only time that Farkle had seen the painting smile. They developed this sort of tradition partly because Mrs. Austen's portrait was situated at approximately the midpoint between the Slytherin Dungeons and the Gryffindor tower and partly because she guarded a passageway that led to the Entrance Hall and Farkle had a tendency of being late. Therefore, the two made it a habit to sneak past Ms. Austen every morning.

Farkle admired Lucas and loved him dearly because Lucas was everything that Farkle could not be. Adored, sought after, noble. He appeared to be the image of perfection, and only if you were to lift up his sleeve, would you see the almost-constant string of bruises on his arms. Ever since he'd been a boy, there had always been an arrangement of bruises decorating his skin; half from his father and half from Quaffles hitting his side. Lucas dedicated most of his time to Quidditch. Being a prefect meant that Lucas could spent hours on the Quidditch Pitch in the early hours of the morning without anyone knowing. His sleepless nights were kept a secret for the most part. Only Farkle was able to pick up on the tension in his jaw and the way he clenched his fists under his desk.

To everyone else, Lucas was the image of perfection. Only the sun could compete with him in terms of how absolutely golden he was; a golden boy with a golden crest upon his golden heart.

Placed in Gryffindor at age eleven, Lucas knew he was destined to become like his sisters and brothers who came before him. The Friars were all known for their classic beauty and the talent they all seemed to possess of being able to command attention in a room without even speaking. Everyone remembered a Friar, and it wasn't like they even had to try to be some kind of angelic, ethereal being of light and perfection. They just were.

And the culminating event of their noble endeavors at Hogwarts – the final grand gesture to prove their worth and bravery – had always been the Triwizard Tournament.

"Its held every five years between the three European Wizarding schools. The Goblet of Fire selects a champion from each scho-,"

Lucas laughed a little at Farkle before he whispered the password to Ms. Austen and watched as the passageway opened.

"I'm very aware of this information, Farkle."

"I know that you are. I just can't believe this is finally the year,"

As Lucas looked down at Farkle, Farkle noticed how Lucas's eyes were sparkling with a warmth and an excitement he had never seen before. As they neared the Great Hall, Lucas straightened, looking into the crowd of students with a steady gaze. Students of all years separated for Lucas, walking past him but keeping a distance as if he would burn them if they got too close. He stopped amidst the sea of black robes, standing in the center of the doorway.

Looking in on the Great Hall, Lucas was hit with the reality of it. The candles the floated above the four tables seemed extra bright today and the sun was shining in on the hall through the enchanted ceiling with an intensity that could only mean something fantastic was about to happen. The Hogwarts staff had decorated for the arrival of the two other schools – the goblets had been polished twice and some of the staff had taken the liberty of digging their formal pointed hats out of their trunks.

Lucas took in a strong breath, "I can't believe it's this year either. This is it, Farkle. The day that I've been counting down to for years now. The Goblet of Fire will be unveiled today. I'm putting my name in the Goblet today. It almost doesn't seem real."

A bout of nerves came over Lucas and he turned to Farkle with a shake in his voice, "We're also meeting the other champions today,"

"You have two weeks to enter, Lucas. We won't know for another two weeks."

"Yes, but today – even though I won't really know who it is – I'll see them for the first time,"

Farkle nodded in agreement, "What a day, what a day," he said.

"Who do you think will enter?"

Lucas had already had this exact conversation with Farkle through letters this summer, their owls traveling the distance between London and the Scottish countryside every two weeks or so. Speculations about the students who could possibly enter helped Lucas pass the time between Quidditch practice and re-reading the stack of books he'd collected about the history of the tournament. Every day, the idea of being in this competition sunk further into his bones until it became a part of him. Every time his grandfather asked him if he was ready, every time he saw the six glittering trophies on their mantle, and every time his father uttered a not good enough, Lucas's hunger grew stronger. He needed this.

"It doesn't even matter, does it? Everyone at Hogwarts knows you'll be chosen, and there are only rumors about the other potential champions," Farkle said.

Lucas brought a hand to his hair on instinct, pulling a little, and forced himself to come back to reality. Farkle was right. Nothing could be done until the others were chosen.

Forcing a smile and straightened the tie of his uniform, Lucas said, "We'll see soon enough then."

With an apprehensive smile from Farkle, the two parted ways. One to the Gryffindor table and one to the Slytherin table.

The familiar shades of green of the Slytherin banner above his head and the smiles of his classmates was a sigh of relief to Farkle.

"Hello, Farkle."

He turned to see a small girl, whose hair was resting delicately on her collarbone in two plaits. The glasses that hid her eyes were newly polished and her uniform was stiff against her skin. He took a seat next to her. They'd been dating for six months now, which Farkle found hard to believe.

"Hello, Smackle"

"Are you excited for today's ceremony? I, for one, am partial to the ritualistic nature of the tournament. Dancing has always been fascinating to me, you know,"

"Indeed I am,"

"One must embrace the quirks of other nations in order to learn from their culture, I suppose,"

Farkle agreed with Isadora and watched her with fondness as she continued to dote on about her studies of the neighboring Wizarding schools she had done over the summer break. He watched as her beautifully formed lips spoke about the ancient traditions and histories of the two schools, nodding here and there.

They were only interrupted by the entrance of Headmaster Feeny, who opened the doors of the Great Hall carefully and stood in the doorway, small and smiling. As he entered the room, Isadora moved to sit with her Ravenclaw housemates.

"Welcome, my lovely students to a new year at Hogwarts. I'm sure you're all very excited for this year in particular," As he spoke, Feeny walked down the aisle towards his seat at the Head Table, "As you well know, Hogwarts will the be the host of the Triwizard Tournament, a competition wherein students compete in a series of magical tasks that will test your intelligence, magical ability, and most of all -"

To the curiosity of many students, Feeny paused and faced the Gryffindor students, looking Lucas in the eyes. He smiled a small smile, and said, "but most of all, it will test your courage,"

There was the clamoring of students as they all looked at Lucas, and as Feeny made his way to the front of the room in silence, the attention of the room seemed to be fixed solely on Lucas. The thing was, nobody really wanted to enter their own name this year. Since they were all first years, everyone had collectively agreed that Lucas was going to represent Hogwarts in the tournament. They figured that he was the most worthy and that if they entered their name, he would be chosen anyway.

As Feeny took his place at the front of the Great Hall, the students went silent again. "This morning, we'll be welcoming the students and staff of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang into the castle. For the following nine months, Hogwarts will be not only your home, but theirs as well,"

Noises could be heard outside the door, and most everyone in the Great Hall had stopped looking at Feeny to investigate the commotion in the Entrance Hall.

"I'm sure you're all anxious, so without further ado, let's welcome the students of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,"

With those words, the doors of the Great Hall flew open and in came a rush of doves, much to the surprise of the students. All Farkle could see was two straight lines preceded by two students en pointe. They were accompanied by singing wood nymphs who flew alongside the ballerines, singing and playing miniature harps. The whole scene was quite beautiful, Farkle thought.

Lucas, who sat at the Gryffindor table nearest to the front of the room, watched the music and dancing with wary. He knew that one of the two people who would be in between him and the Triwizard cup was in front of him. Traditionally, the Headmistress placed the potential champion in the front during the Opening Ceremony. He saw Missy Bradford immediately – a thin girl with large eyes whose family had advertised that she would be entering the tournament. Like all the Beauxbatons students, her hair was pulled up into a ponytail with a pale blue satin bow to match their uniforms. Her bow was a bit bigger than the rest and her hair was pulled taut against her scalp; not that it distracted from her beauty because she was certainly pretty but Lucas had to wonder if it hurt a bit.

The two very last students who walked into the hall – hands behind their backs in a graceful and uniform fashion, were the only ones talking among the Beauxbatons students. The shorter of the two was blonde and she whispered to her taller friend like she had secrets to tell and no one deserved to know them. They spoke in French and even if Lucas tried, he couldn't make out their words through the many voices in the Great Hall. Lucas took special attention to the blonde and he found himself wanting to know all the secrets she looked like she was keeping.

He was almost surprised that nobody else seemed to be looking at her, because it was as if he couldn't look away. Maybe it was because she looked the most out of place among the Beauxbatons students.

The hem of her skirt was crooked, as if done by a muggle, and her hair was unkempt and falling out of the satin ribbon. Instead of robes, the Beauxbatons students wore capes; hers was a little too large for her and he wondered if it was borrowed. She must have noticed that he was staring at her, because she turned to him quickly, her eyebrows coming together in question.

He tried to make himself look away, he really did. But the more he looked at her, the more enchanted he seemed to be. The brunette was now looking at him too, instead of at Headmaster Feeny who was speaking about the history of Beauxbatons and introducing their Headmistress to the students of Hogwarts.

It took him a full thirty seconds of staring at her to notice how beautiful she was. But once he registered it, he wondered how he didn't notice that first. Lucas imagined that painters would beg for the privilege to paint her; poets would fill notebooks with sonnets of her.

He was still looking at her, unable to look away, when she turned back to talk to her friend. It was then that he noticed that the Durmstrang students were already half way down the aisle, doing something that resembled more of a military formation than a dance. Lucas tried to find some of the people rumoured to enter their names, but his eyes kept drifting back to the blonde.

The Beauxbatons students filled the gaps at the Ravenclaw table with some spilling into the Slytherins. His blonde sat across from Isadora, not really smiling but instead watching her brunette friend talk with a look of admiration in her eyes. It's then that Lucas noticed the ribbon from her hair was gone.

He looked around quickly, scanning the Great Hall for the ribbon. It must have fallen, he thought.

It was only after breakfast dismissed and a few students remained in the Great Hall that he saw the ribbon. It was pushed underneath the Ravenclaw table, frayed at the end and dusty from the floor.

Lucas picked up the ribbon and ran his fingers across the fabric, feeling how soft it was. Lucas wondered if his blonde's skin was this soft; he imagined how it would feel under his fingertips. Under his lips.

He folded the ribbon slowly, careful not to tear any of the already-frayed edges. He placed it in his pocket and left the Great Hall, thinking that it must be some sort of fate that his blonde had lost her ribbon.

And maybe it was fate or maybe it was this uncomfortable love-at-first-sight feeling, but Lucas knew that he had to find her.


End file.
